Spun of Ashes, Spun of Fire
by Ramzes
Summary: AU. On the eve of Redgrass Field, Aelyx Targaryen wonders why it has come to this. Why he has found himself at this field, ready to meet his brothers' enemy. His true brother. And he remembers his life. In flashes. A sequel to Queen of Ashes. A series of drabbles (hopefully!)
1. Red Sky at Night

**Spun of Ashes, Spun of Fire**

 _Red Sky at Night_

The sun slowly set upon green that spun all around. Green foot of the circle of mountains surrounding them from all sides but one, green buds of the young flowers that had yet to bloom into their colourful magnificence, green grass on the pastures of herds that had been led away in fear the moment the first warhorse had shook the earth with the echoing of its hooves. The young man stared at the flaming gold, sinking lonely and magnificent, and tried to imagine the other side of the ridge in front of him, the white dots littering the side of the mountain. Daemon's camp. He has us pressed here like rats in a trap, he thought.

As if reading his thoughts, the man at his left spoke, "Should I find out who told him our route…"

"He will wish that he had never been born," Aelyx Targaryen interrupted wearily. "I know, I know. I even believe you, Brynden."

" _He_ 'd better believe me." Brynden Rivers' eyes were as scarlet as the sun and just as implacable. "He'll be happy if he gets killed tomorrow."

"I hear they say the same about us," Maekar put it indifferently. "As far as I know, Lord Yronwood had vowed to kill me in person. He's still bitter that after all the effort he put forth to take Starfall, he had to find out that Dyanna wasn't home."

He said it so prosaically that the other two smiled. He looked at them, uncomprehending, but Brynden was not about to explain and Aelyx was too busy to marvel at the sight in front of him. Maekar Targaryen and Brynden Rivers not arguing. For almost two hours. Miracles did happen and he was almost ready to believe that Baelor could arrive in time. That they could avoid the absolute bloodshed.

"It's my nameday tomorrow, you know," he said abruptly, having just realized it. "I am going to be twenty-four."

"I forgot." There was apology in Maekar's voice. Aelyx grinned.

"So did I."

But his smile faded quickly as the reality of what was going on returned. These two were more of brothers to him than the man they would fight tomorrow was but it still made him wonder what had happened, why had it come to this. Why he had found himself at this field, ready to meet his brothers' enemy. His true brother.

It had started many years ago, at Queen Daena's deathbed…


	2. Ashes Burning Low

**Spun of Ashes, Spun of Fire**

 _Ashes Burning Low_

Sometimes, Aelyx thought he remembered her laughing. Riding. Taking them up the winding path to look at the sea, blue at the horizon, light green at the shallows, white-laced all around, as it crashed against the white rocks of Driftmark, her eyes shining. But he did not know if it was a real memory, or something that he had spun out of the things people said his mother had done. Daena Targaryen, wild from birth, a doting mother. Who would have thought? Sometimes, the woman he thought he remembered had his grandmother's face. Sometimes, she had Aunt Elaena's distinctive lock. And this meant that he did not remember as much or as clearly as he wished.

But he remembered this day. The day she had died. After a long illness, she had finally felt better. Well enough to go out for a walk in the garden, leaning on Daeron's arm heavily. "It's strange, isn't it?" Aelyx heard her say. "Out of everyone of our blood, you used to be the one I liked least and now I can't imagine what my life in the last years would have been like without you."

Daeron smiled. "Stranger things have taken place. Although at the moment, I can't think of one."

She laughed… and coughed. This summer fever had taken so long to run its course. Months.

By the end of the day, it was clear that Daena would not survive the night. And in the panic and the air of grief filling her bedchamber, no one checked to make sure that Aelyx and Alysanne had gone to their nursery as they had been ordered to.

"You will have Baelor wed her when they come of age, won't you?" Daena asked urgently as they helped her to lean against the pillows to ease her breathing. "Even if your father insists for Daenerys?"

"You have my word," Daeron replied calmly and steadily. "Your daughter will be Baelor's queen one day."

The thought of Baelor and Alysanne getting married made Aelyx giggle. He looked at his sister. "Alysanne loves Baelor," he said in a sing-song voice and she kicked him but then they both remembered that they had to keep quiet because – sent to bed.

Now, twenty years later, Aelyx could see how unwell his mother had looked, her beauty sharp and ominous, yellowed, touched by the Stranger – but at the time, he had been unable to.

"Ah, the time!" Daena sighed later at night when Elaena sat at her bedside. "I'm looking back at it and I wonder… Did I ruin my own life as much as Baelor did?"

"No," Elaena said sharply, with the strength of utter conviction. "You did not. No one possibly could."

There was sad reflection in Daena's eyes. In the candlelight, their purple had turned to blood. Eyes of blood. Now, Aelyx was scared. "I think I did," she said slowly. "I wasted so much time on hating… Not just Baelor, as much as he deserved it. I hated her, you know. The Dornish girl."

"The Toland one?" Elaena asked immediately and the children looked at each other, wondering who the Toland girl was.

"I thought I would wed Daeron when he returned from Dorne, that I would be his queen and mother of his heirs. But he brought her with him and he watched her, and he loved her – I could say. This year, I met Davos Dayne… He, too, loved Elsbet Toland."

Elaena's shoulders sagged. She shook her head. "What can I say? I am hardly the one to judge other people's loves."

Now, Daena laughed weakly. "That has never stopped me!" She became serious. "Why did I ever get involved with Aegon? I knew he was not the one a person could rely on. But I lay with him, and I gave birth to his son, and then I married Uncle out of vengeance… What will happen to Aelyx now, Elaena?"

Once again, the children looked at each other, not understanding.

"You'll take care of him as you always have," Elaena said and Daena shook her head.

"I hated her so much, you know," she went on. "Viserys' woman. I did not love him but I wanted him to love me and I was insulted when he kept loving her. Is envy and jealousy the only passion I was ever capable of?"

"No," her sister said with utter conviction. "You just drew the short stick. As you say, you were in love with Lord Dayne."

"Yes," Daena confirmed sadly. "But was I ever in love with him, or Elsbet Toland's husband?"

To this, Elaena had no answer. She just reached out and took her sister's hand.

Daena's lips curved into something that could not possibly be a smile. "The Queen of Ashes," they call me. How fitting! My fire rose too bright, too fast to last… and now the ashes are burning out."

They buried her with the splendor due to a Queen. Aelyx remembered holding Alysanne's hand but he did not remember just when he realized that his mother was not coming back. And he remembered that Daemon seemed to understand better but grieve less. How could it ever be different? Daena had never been allowed to take care of him after King Viserys' death.

Who was going to take care of them now?

Now, in the night before the battle and his name day, Aelyx remembered the hurried conversation between his grandmother, his aunt, and Daeron. "Mariah and I do wish to take them in," Daeron said. "Alysanne is Baelor's future bride and I would not separate two children who had just lost their mother."

"But you don't need them, " Queen Daenaera protested. "I do. And I do not wish to have them exposed at Aegon's hostility, the way your children are!"

The conversation ran in circle for some time. Aelyx lost the thread after the first few minutes or so but he remembered that it was important for them to make the decision and present it to the King as a fact because at the merest whiff of discord between them, he would take the decision in his own hands… and they all feared it.

Queen Daenaera won.

"Aegon's decisions!" Aelyx now spoke aloud and Maekar and Brynden looked at him, away from the result of one of those decisions that had just started manifesting in the form of hundreds of small yellow dots. Camp fires.


	3. Drawing the Battle Lines

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Spun of Ashes, Spun of Fire

 _Drawing the Battle Lines_

Aelyx knew that he had been brought to King's Landing a few times in his early childhood, so he must have seen King Aegon before he turned into this mountain of bloated flesh. But he could not remember this. All he remembered was unpleasant laughter and something else when these small eyes, sunken in the perpetually reddened face, rested at his own face. He must have been six-year-old at the time and until now, he had never been in danger or had anyone other than his grandmother raise their voice at him , so it did not occur to him to feel fear of the unlikeable man in his crimson robes. But then, these eyes moved to little Maekar with the same feeling that they had looked at Aelyx with. Aelyx saw how Mariah involuntarily pulled her son closer, looked up with wide, frightened eyes and went pale. By the time Aegon grinned and said that at least this one looked Targaryen and brave enough – and while Maekar was too young to know fear - Aelyx had already felt it.

This fear never left him entirely and only when he grew up some did he realize how full Aegon's power over him was. He clearly remembered the fact that Daeron was not afraid of his father. Their fierce arguments that could be overheard all the way from the King's solar. "The Prince is being too insalent," Daemon whispered as the children listened to the King's fierce voice and Daeron's icy tones. Aelyx had no idea what insalent was but he had little doubt that Aerys would know.

The slightly younger boy did not disappoint. "It's _insolent_ ," he said. "And no, my lord father is not this."

"No one else dares talk to His Grace like this," Daemon insisted, his eyes wide.

Their grandmother looked up from her embroidery. "Many used to dare," she said. "Your mother was one of them."

This made Daemon shut up and Aelyx add another memory to the scant few that he had of his mother. Daena Targaryen had been a brave woman, as brave as Daeron was. Baelor gave Daemon one of those looks that always made Aelyx uneasy because that meant danger – a cat under his pillow, strawberry jam spread all over his practice blade to make it impossible for Aelys to draw it. And grinned. "I lay my new hound that my father is going to win this," he said.

Later, Aelyx would think of this as one of the so many moments that drew the battle lines, moments that at the time, no one knew were this, even Baelor and Daemon themselves.

As to him? There had never been any doubt as to which side he was at. Daemon was his half-brither but he hardly ever saw him. Queen Daenaera, Aelyx and Alysanne spent a good deal of every month at Dragonstone and in their turn, Mariah and her children visited Driftmark, although Daeron's duties did not always let him accompany them. It was always exciting to measure up his progress against Baelor's after some time apart, although Baelor usually won, being two years older. He knew something about Aerys' books, he knew how to recognize the first signs of Rhaegel's fits of madness. Maekar was harder for him to understand. The youngest boy lived at court now and without anyone having actually said it, Aelyx knew that it had been done against Daeron and Mariah's wishes. And realizing it made him understand just how dangerous King Aegon could be. He could never take his side, even if the King made an effort to win him over which he never did.

"You remind him too much of your father," his grandmother said. "And he dislikes it." Her eyes became soft and distant. "Sometimes, I look at you and I think of the time Viserys returned from Lys. He was like a surge of fresh air into the stale air of old and stuffy court. Like a bright splash in this dark palace, and yet even then there was will of iron behind this carefree smile of his." She suddenly snapped back awake, the book snapping closed in her lap. "King Aegon is no friend of yours, Aelyx. Remember this. "

"Is Daemon a friend of mine, Grandmother?" Aelyx asked. It was too hard for him to understand.

Queen Daenaera slowly shook her head. "Perhaps over time, he will be."

Much later, Aelyx would realize that she had meant "after the King's death". And that she had not been sure, although at the time, she had had no way to know that two years before his death, Aegon would proclaim Daemon his son and would start treating him almost as his heir. Almost.

"He's a bastard," was Baelor's assessment. There was no malice in his voice, just a calm statement of facts. "He might be a king's bastard but he is a bastard nonetheless, and he hates us who are princes by blood and law."

Aelyx did not like the thought that his half-brother hated him but there was little doubt that Daemon's dislike of Baelor and his brothers, and Aelyx himself had increased since Aegon's revelation. He stared at the dragon castle high above their heads and suddenly lowered his practice blade. Baelor stared at him. "What?"

"I am tired. And hungry," Aelyx replied. At eleven, he was old enough to recognize the resentment that sometimes built up within him, the growing realization that in a way of his own, he was just as insignificant as Daemon in comparison to Baelor and his brothers and even Alysanne, Baelor's future Queen.

 _She will be Queen,_ Aelyx vowed now. And Daemon will never be King.


	4. Always Safe

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Spun of Ashes, Spun of Fire

 _Always Safe_

The faint echo of hooves alerted them to the approach of new arrivals long before they saw the riders. Scouts. Aelyx strained his eyes in the dark and felt the giant leap of his heart and the more sedate rhythm that followed. Before now, he had not realized how tensely he had expected the return of his own squire who had been one of the selected few.

There was a thick bandage on the boy's hand but when he grinned, his teeth gleamed strikingly wide. "They did not even send proper scouts. They are mad."

"Or very confident," Brynden said drily.

Ingel Sand nodded. "That's what I said, my lord. Mad."

 _You'd better come on time, Baelor. I just assured our men that you will – and I told you we'd hold until you arrive. Don't turn me into a liar._

The two bastards looked each other in the eye; amused, Aelyx noticed that his squire did not feel uncomfortable at all meeting Brynden's red eyes. The Prince of Dorne's son looked very sure in his own abilities and his place in the world, yet there was none of Daemon's zeal in him – or Brynden's, come to think of it. Of course, his father treated him quite differently to how Daemon and Brynden's father had treated them. His very hair, his olive face glowed with confidence, always. Aelyx narrowed his eyes and tried to imagine what Daenerys' children would look like when they grew up. They already promised to be Martells through and through, just like Ingel. Daenerys' silver hair and purple eyes would be lost… and the river of memories flowed again.

Daenerys and Alysanne. Both silver of hair and violet of eye, their facial lines so similar that sometimes, in the twilight, people could not tell them apart. Even Aelyx… As they grew up, the jests turned more ribald, their friends wondering how Baelor could tell his bride apart at the bedding. Baelor did not take them in a bad way but sometimes Aelyx saw something in his sister's eyes that told him her laughter was not quite sincere, that to her, it meant more than a careless jape that the speaker certainly had not had in mind. Baelor, the poor sod, had no idea. He truly did not feel more than the casual admiration of his betrothed's beauty and the warm affection that he had always accorded her. He expected their wedding with joy because that was what he had always known to be his future and everyone was joyful . That was it. Sometimes, Aelyx wondered if Alysanne would tell him one day, after they were wed, and other times he knew she would never let her secret be known to him.

"All of Daena's passion and fortunately, a good deal of my lady mother's prudence there," his aunt Elaena told him when he finally confided his fears to her. "Never fear, Aelyx. Alysanne will be far happier than your mother."

Aelyx was not quite sure. How could she be, knowing that Baelor did not love her as much she loved him? Was this the passion their mother had once felt for King Aegon or worse, that Dornish lord? No one could say. And of course, Aelyx did not think that he would like to be burdened with the weight of such love either but sometimes he wished that Baelor would _notice_ , as much as it would hurt Alysanne's pride.

There was so much that Baelor did not notice.

Like the resentment that was slowly growing within Aelyx, a feeling that, he was sure of it, caused him more shame than the intensity of Alysanne's love caused her. Passion for one's betrothed was not ladylike but at most, it would call for a few japes at Alysanne's expense. What he felt was decidedly ignoble, unreasonable and something that he could never tell a soul. Baelor and the rest of them – they had never been anything than warm and inclusive and he loved them, was closer to them than anyone else, save for his male cousins, Aunt Elaena's boys. Of course, he could not tell Jon and Viserys either. They were all friends and Aelyx' envy and resentment felt like a dark vein spoiling the beauty of an otherwise perfect emerald.

He was something… middle. He was not a bastard like the Great Bastards – what was this great about them anyway? He was born a prince and everyone acknowledged this but he had such a little part compared to Baelor and even Aerys, bookish Aerys who was only interested in his scrolls. Baelor would be King and Aerys, his Hand one day. Alysanne would be Queen, Daenerys – the Princess of Dorne where women were respected and given power openly. Which left Aelyx with Rhaegel and Maekar. The babes!

Was this what his lady mother had expected when she had wed his father? Certainly not! The only person who did not avoid his question told him so in no uncertain means. "I am quite sure her plans were to give birth to as many sons as possible in quick succession and then fight King Aegon over the succession," Daeron said calmly. "Had your father not died so… suddenly, our roles might have been reversed. "

From what Aelyx had heard of his father, he very much doubted it. Even King Viserys had not loved and desired Daena and she had not wanted him either. As sad as it was to think that he had only been a means to an end, right now what felt more offensive was the fact that Daena's plans had failed!

The sight of everyone fawning over little Maekar's prowess in the practice yard was the last drop. Aelyx started spending more time in Daemon and Aegor's company and Baelor and Aerys did not care enough to try and lure him back. Now, staring out at the lights in Daemon's camp, he felt the familiar horror crawling up his back at the thought of what _might_ have happened if Aegor had not overplayed his hand too soon. Just a month or two in their new friendship… Would he have been with these fire camps? Against Daeron, against Maekar and Brynden, against Baelor who was undoubtedly making his way to them in the night? Who could say…

"He's going to take part in the melee," Aegor said all those years ago when they had been preparing for the tourney marking the second anniversary of Daeron's ascension to the Iron Throne. "This is a great chance to make people see the truth. I mean, he's the best at court with a spear, like a true Dornishman…"

"Not this good," Daemon said harshly and Aelyx felt doubly annoyed with his willful blindness and Aegor's insults. The three of them were getting along because, basically, Aegor and Daemon refrained from criticizing Baelor and his brothers too harsh in Aelyx' presence.

"Are you talking about the Prince of Dragonstone?" he asked icily and wondered why he cared. It was unfair to him as well!

Aegor grunted. "Dark-haired, dark-skinned, preferring Dornish weapons? Yes, it must be him. And it's time that we put him in his place. There have always been accidents at melees…"

Aelyx jumped from his chair and glared at Aegor, unable to believe his ears. "Are you talking of murder?" he asked bluntly and now, Daemon looked at Aegor with disbelief. "What about you?" Aelyx demanded. "What did you _think_ he was talking about?"

"About unhorsing him, of course," Aegor snapped. "Who has said anything about murder at all? With a good plan, it won't be hard to make him panic and shame himself at the melee. He should be ashamed walking this Dornish face around, if you ask me!"

"Fortunately, I am not!" Aelyx snapped back and Daemon rose.

"I am not taking part in squire games," he said icily. "It's unworthy for a knight to take part in such schemes… and have you forgotten that I am not taking part in the squire competition any more?"

Aelyx breathed a sigh of relief, although he felt it was just a delay of what was to come.

At this melee, he kept close to Baelor and told Jon to do the same. He could feel the hatred in Aegor's eyes when the little group that he had summoned reconsidered before approaching Baelor now. And when, after the melee, he sat up at his usual place at the high table, with Baelor and the others talking animatedly from all sides, for the first time in a very long while he felt that this was where he belonged.

The King's eyes, resting on him ever so often, told him that perhaps his maneuvers had not been so secret, after all. Baelor also gave him a look once or twice. Even Aerys… But no one asked, for which he was grateful.

His Aunt Elaena was not so delicate, though. She cornered him as soon as she caught him alone. All five feet and a half of shaking fury, she demanded to know what had taken place today. If Aelyx did not know his cousin, he would have thought that Jon had rushed to his lady mother to tell her of Aelyx' plea as soon as the two had parted.

"It's nothing," he said.

"So it's nothing, is it?" Elaena snapped with a voice that made the hounds lying before the fireplace cower and whine but Aelyx merely looked at her and waited for her to compose. He was not a tattler, no matter what, and at the end Elaena did lower her voice. "Tell me this… Was there some plan against Baelor? By the way you and Jon never left his side today, I think there was."

Silently, Aelyx nodded. "I was not a part of it, though," he said.

"Did Baelor ask you what happened? No? What are you going to do if he does?"

He shrugged. "The same thing I'm doing now, I suppose."

She relaxed quite visibly. "Then, you're safe. _Never lie to Baelor._ As long as you tell him the truth, you'll always be safe."

 _Please come on time, Baelor. Please let me have told you and our host the truth._


	5. Remember When

**Spun of Ashes, Spun of Fire**

 _Remember When_

It was too late for a raven's wings to stir the air – and dangerous as well, even with the secret language they had decided upon before leaving King's Landing and still, Aelyx looked up ever so often, squinting at the dark empty sky and hoping to see a black silhouette against the black sky.

"No one's going to arrive," Brynden said, coming to stand at his side. "We'll just have to act and hope for the best."

"And if our best isn't good enough?" Rage and fear twisted Aelor's voice into one that he did not recognize.

Brynden shrugged. Now, as the sun slept, he had taken his hood off and the firelight lit his white hair, his fair skin, the splash on his cheek and neck turned into a dark blood, congealing… but still, fire lit silver and white hair one way and the same. At this moment, Aelyx truly felt that Brynden was one of them. Belonged with them.

"Do we have a choice?" the young spymaster asked in a low voice, his eyes going to the tree far ahead of them where Aelyx could barely make out the form of a young lean man in the boughs. One of the Raven's Teeth. "Daemon chose to take the risk and fight without any provisions in case that he loses. He's taken all the men he has. If we don't stop them here…" He did not finish. There was no need.

"We won't let them pass," Aelyx said softly but with great determination. If he could put in some certainty as well…

"Baelor will come," Brynden insisted. "He will be there and we will gain the numbers that we need, even if he needs to march his troops all night long and enter the fight immediately. Even Maekar is sure of this."

They both turned and looked at the tent. Maekar was outlined near it, next to a camp fire. His hair shone like theirs but he was not looking at them. Instead, he stared south, where Daemon's men were, and Baelor's behind them, and further south, Dorne, the land of his mother.

"Maekar seems more certain than both of us combined," Aelyx remarked. "Very unusual, I'd say. Normally, he isn't the one to think of the best."

"Was he ever!" Brynden agreed. "He's more morose than even me and I consider this quite the accomplishment!"

Aelyx laughed. "I suppose the people around him have gradually influenced him. Viserys, Jena's brother, these Dornish companions of his…"

"There is someone else around him, influencing him, isn't there?" Brynden said. "His lady wife?"

"Of course…" Aelor replied in an undertone and stared at Maekar staring towards Dorne.

Of course Maekar was thinking of her. How could he not? None of those who knew him could ever doubt the influence Brynden was talking about or failing to notice Maekar's unspoken, fierce devotion to the beautiful but ill Dyanna.

 _No, she's healthy now. She'll be fine…_

He had first met her when he had been about ten – and he had not a single memory of it, although he remembered the stir she had caused in Dragonstone when she had convinced the other girls that in Dorne, women were elevated over men. He remembered the tumult but not her.

When he met her years later, though…

He had been eighteen and she, about fifteen. This crown of black hair, this fair face that the Dornish sun had powdered in gold. These violet eyes, haughty-reflective at one moment and sparkling laughter at the next, the quick smile that became soft and caressing when she was met with those less fortunate than her, the ever present wit, the grace of her movements… All of this was put in Maekar's hands to enjoy. Maekar whom she was wed to. Aelyx had taken this wedding hard, his resentment growing stronger because it could not be spoken. What could he do? Demand that the betrothal be broken? As smile and content returned in his sister's life, her youth and the actuality of being wed to Baelor offering a welcome respite from the insecurities that she had filled her life with, it was now his turn to feel what his aunt Elaena described as his mother's fire and others were less tactful in their assessment, although never to his face. Anger. Offence at… what exactly? Nothing and no one in particular and because of this, everything and everyone. Dyanna, of course, and Maekar when they did not bother to mask their happiness. How he had hated them for this! And again, the poisonous thought had slipped in his mind: why couldn't have his mother succeeded in her plans to remove Aegon, and Daeron and his sons with him, from succession? He preferred not to delve on the matter how it would have helped him in his current predicament. Without a Dornish queen on the throne, he would have never known that a Dyanna Dayne even existed. The only contact they might have had would have been if he had repeated his uncle's madness and tried his hand at conquering Dorne. How much would she have loved him then?

Love was supposed to lift people. It never did anything of the kind for him. It made him insincere, dishonest, and unhappy. But over time, he became sure it was all just a figment of his imagination. Another period when he resented his station of being lesser than Daeron's sons. Especially now, when he had lost Alysanne to Baelor and Dragonstone. He truly believed it as he recognized in Daeron's rising ambitions a twisted mirror reflection of his own disappointments. Of course he would think he loved Dyanna! She was another thing that a son of Daeron's had got.

And then, she got ill. Aelyx still remembered their last meeting a year ago, before he left for Essos. He had come to the Queen's chambers to say goodbye. He had found Dyanna instead and since Mariah had sent word that she'd come soon, he could not even leave – and he did not want to.

What people said was true. Dyanna had lost a frightening amount of weight, her bones sharply outlined on the cheeks and wrists, her fingers only knots of knuckles. The cut of her gown was such that it completely hid the disfigurement of her mutilated breast but all the paint in the world could not hide the lines suffering had cut into her sallow face. He saw it then but now, he could not remember what it had looked like. He had been sitting opposite the most beautiful girl in the world, her castle of stars in the background. This face that had long haunted his dreams and still did now. What had he said? Had she replied? He could not remember and he knew that she had not even memorized it. To her, there was only one man.

That was the legend Daemon's men were spinning now, was it not? That there had only ever been one for Daenerys, Daemon. _Poor Rohanne_ , Aelyx thought, for he had always liked his brother's withdrawn, serious wife. Couldn't Daemon see what he was doing to her? Undoubtedly, he thought that the throne he would offer her would make up for this. Daemon was big on pride, but somehow, it was always other people who were expected to relinquish theirs.

Aelor had relinquished his here, in various battlefields where he had little to do but plan battles, march for battles, fight in battles, and reflect. He had to admit admitting that his feelings had been genuine – but the fierce coveting had lost its edge, replaced by sadness.

Plan battles, march for battles, fight in battles, and realize that Queen Daena's fire in his blood that had been pushing him towards demanding more and more, always what he could not have had now faded to ashes, his fierce strive to control himself, a strive that Daemon did not have and according to their mother's words at his deathbed, she had never tried to cultivate in herself, smothered it slowly and painfully but securely. He had presented a lie to the world and it had slowly become truth. Almost. The irony was, Daemon was now employing the same tactics, only it was the world at large that he strove to deceive and not himself. Would he be successful, even if he failed in the day to come? He had to fail. There was no other way.

Plan battles, march for battles, fight in battles, and remember the days when recognized resentment had been his own demon; when Daeron's sons had gone ahead of him in everything as they should because it was right; when Daemon had had yet to turn Westeros into a ready pyre and wreak havoc in his wake because he could not accept being less; when Dyanna, the most beautiful woman who had ever lived, had been mistress of his heart; when secretly, Aegor had been pouring his poison.

Plan a battle, march for a battle, fight in a battle, win this battle. There was no other way, with Baelor on time or not. Even if their men retreated now, they would never live in peace. The only road to peace went through Daemon's corpse. Aelyx turned his back to the fire and silently, angrily wiped the two tears that had rolled down his pale cheels.


	6. Hope Comes with the Light

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Spun of Ashes, Spun of Fire

 _Hope Comes with the Light_

The Seven had some strange ways to torment those who worshipped them. How else could Aelyx' feelings be explained? He, who had done his best and more to defeat Daemon, cursed him wholeheartedly for his treachery and ingratitude, never accepted his claim for a moment, even in the farthest recesses of his mind, now stood over the prostrate body and wondered what they could have done differently. What could have been. If King Aegon had not sown the seeds of betrayal and ambition unbefitting a bastard. If Aegor had not found a soil so good to nourish them. If Daemon had been less glorious, less malleable to flattery and insinuations. If, if, if. It made no sense for him to feel guilty but he did.

All around Aelyx, activity showed no signs of abating. Under the light of thousands of torches, men combed the battlefield, hoping to find people who were wounded and not dead. After all these hours, living men were dragged from under dead bodies increasingly rarely, to be brought to the maesters – the Strangers had claimed both those who would have died anyway and many of those who could have made it if they had received timely help. Moans and laments echoed all around Aelyx until he wanted to put his helmet back on, just to shut them out. Overhead, a crescent was hanging low, bathed in blood, and the stars shivered like tears on a woman's lashes. From time to time, the radiance danced far enough for Aelyx to see the slick grass stretching far beyond the horizon. Red like blood, it looked.

Hurried steps made him look up and follow. He did not even feel surprised by her unexpected arrival – he did not have the strength. He only wanted to sleep for a year. Or two. Sleep and wake up in a world where Daemon had never rebelled, was not dead, had not brought Maekar and Brynden to the brink of death where they still teetered dangerously.

When he reached the biggest tent, Shiera Seastar was already arguing with the guards, insisting that they let her in.

They refused.

"His Grace told us that no one was allowed to enter, my lady, forgive me."

"His Grace did not mean me!" Shiera snapped. "Do you know who I am? You're risking a lot by making me freeze to death here when I need to be inside!"

The man shrugged apologetically but when Shiera started for him, did not move out of the way.

"Let her in," Aelyx spoke. "I'll take full responsibility," he added and the guards parted for the lady this time. Aelyx did not follow her inside. He could easily imagine her, silver hair cascading down her shoulders, mismatched eyes staring in the smooth water in her goblet that revealed the bloodied mess that Brynden's face had become…

After a while, though, he felt that he could not wait anymore and entered the tent he had vowed that he would not set a foot in until after everything had ended happily. The stench of blood hit him immediately from two sides: at his left, Brynden was lying with his face wrapped in bandages and at the far end, a maester was changing the cloth wrapped around Maekar's shoulder and arm and the blood was gushing out, as copious as a river…

"It doesn't look too bad to me," Aelyx said, trying to find something good in the situation as he joined Baelor and Shiera who had been banished against the wall. "In fact, it's a normal amount of blood loss for a battle wound."

"This is the fourth time they change it," Baelor said in a hollow voice. 'They have to staunch the bleeding or he won't live to see the day."

This was what Aelyx had feared to hear. But he had the feeling that this wasn't all of it. Something about Brynden's pose… "He's running a fever?"

Baelor nodded, pushed beyond his endurance. "How could I return to King's Landing without them?" he asked, like a dark premonition.

"You won't have to," Shiera said firmly. "They're going to live."

Something in her wild eyes told Aelyx that this was not her sorcery but her wish talking. Still, this same thing warned him that he'd better not object, so he did not. Instead, he started recounting the horrors of the last day in a silent litany, what could have been and what had been. Daemon had never been a true part of his life but these two had… and he was about to lose them both, maybe. Despite Shiera's assurances. The maesters' expressions as they tended them told him this much.

"Go out and order for Daemon's body to be guarded," Baelor said at one moment.

Aelyx startled. "What?"

"Have it taken somewhere and guarded," Baelor said again, impatiently. "I won't put it past our men to release their anger on the body."

Aelyx stared at him in horror and ran out of the tent, to return mere moments later. By the way Shiera's eyes followed him, he could say that given the chance, she would have kicked Daemon in the ribs as hard as to break enough of them to make him scream if he were alive.

This anxious night was slow to pass. Only when the first pearly light of dawn made its way through the opening that they held widely gaping to let some fresh air in, Brynden stirred and his fever lessened. Some time later, Maekar woke up, however briefly. Hope filled Aelyx' heart, as pale-grey as the dawn but living anyway.

"Would you mind going with Maekar to Sunspear?" Baelor asked the next day. "As you know, Dyanna is there. He wants to bring her home. And honestly, Sunspear is closer than King's Landing and he needs some good rest and a maester's care."

Aelyx clung to this offer gratefully. Baelor knew that he disliked the prospect of going back with the host, to a city of cheering and celebrations and had decided to spare him. Aelyx felt regret for his sister who would be in the centre of it all but this was the price of being a queen in-waiting. "Yes. I'd be happy to."

Maekar did not accept a litter. Of course! At least he let Aelyx and the maester accompanying them check on the wound and tighten the bandages twice a day. He was not _this_ mad. Watching him, watching strength creeping back almost unnoticeably, little by little, as tiny as the gathered amount was, Aelyx wondered about the late King Baelor. Could it be that his uncle had been smarted and with more vision than anyone, and Aelyx' mother in particular, had given him credit for? Could it be that the brother-sister marriages were as detrimental as they were useful? Daeron and Mariah were only distantly related, yet all of their sons were blessed with good, almost superior – especially compared with their father – physical health.

Still, this was something that only Aelyx and the maester could see. Wherever they stopped to spend the night, lords and ladies stared in horror at Maekar's pale face and looked grateful at Aelyx' suggestion not to inform Sunspear about their imminent arrival. There was still the chance that Maekar would not make it there alive, or so they thought. Aelyx did not but he had been raised by the superstitious old women at his grandmother's court and to his surprise, something of their fears had obviously soaked into him. He did not want to provoke the Stranger.

When they finally reached Sunspear, he collapsed in bed and slept for two days and a night, waking to a boy peering at him from the foot of his bed. A boy he knew. Maekar's eldest.

"My father was asking about you," young Daeron said and Aelyx felt relief mingling with an all too familiar irritation. Did Maekar need to be so outrageously quick in his recovery? Could he not let people get their rest?

"I'm coming to see him," he sighed and rose, shedding away the memory that had cut into his mind, the boys that he had just dreamed about, much older and given over to torturers. Did old castles truly retain the memory of those who had once lived within their walls?

Of course, by the time he was dressed and washed, Daeron had long disappeared and Aelyx was left to make his way only with the help of his squire – whom he did not have the heart to wake up. But he did not feel like hurrying. Maekar was clearly better. The rebellion was over. And the sun he felt on his face was wild and tender like nothing he had ever experienced. He had never been inside a Dornish settlement, at least not one built before the arrival of the Rhoynish. He would not mind finding his way alone and have a closer look.

He was in the small garden that had just been watered, staring at some flowers burning like flames and others white as stars when he heard a voice. He did not make the words because he was shocked by the timbre, so much like Dyanna's and yet not hers at all. In the slow colouring of the horizon in crimson, orange, and deep blue as dawn crept over the world, his heart skipped a beat, then started pounding. Whose was this voice? Astrea's. She was so young. So fascinating. And she looked so much like Dyanna. Slender fingers tugging the strings of her lute, a smile indicating that at this moment, she was not there at all – this was the memory Aelyx would carry with him as he left, the memory of Astrea and the music as standing before her, turning the pages for her, was her older sister, Dyanna Dayne…

The past was heading for its rest. Lady Yronwood came to throw herself at Prince Maron's mercy as her husband was being taken to King's Landing as a captive. Prizes and favours were distributed generously. Maekar was getting better. And Aelyx met someone he had never imagined he would see – his father's longtime mistress, a member of the Dornish court for almost two decades – this was a story he was not sure he wanted to know. But upon first seeing her, he was astounded. He could not imagine how his father could have loved her over his young Queen – according to him, she had no true beauty to her and had never had it.

"If you cannot get what you want, why not wanting what you can get?" was Daeron's comment when Aelyx told him that he wanted to wed the girl when she grew up – in two years, or perhaps three. Of course, the King did not actually say it but Aelyx could feel it in his eyes, behind his smile.

 _Not a bad way to live at alll,_ Aelyx thought as Dyanna's voice came to him from the adjacent hall where she, Mariah, and Alysanne were discussing something very seriously and the ravens were crowding at the walls where the heads of those leaders of the Rebellion that had been killed were displayed and Daemon's beauty was turning to their food. Flame burns bright but it also dies fast if not nourished. Can a fire be made from gleaming ashes?

He did not know…

 **The End**

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 **A. N. Thanks to everyone who stayed with me for this not-chaptered story and a character who was not a hero! It was fun to experiment with a new format and your interest was a great incense to keep me going.**


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